


between us is electric

by helo572



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572/pseuds/helo572
Summary: Jesse feels it when Hanzo goes down.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a christmas gift for the lovely Lin who is always a sucker for the hurt!Hanzo <3 Merry Christmas!

Jesse feels it when Hanzo goes down. It’s a lurch in his chest even the kickback of Peacekeeper’s hammer can’t soothe as he mows down the three Los Muertos goons blocking his path, an icy cold feeling pulling at his thoughts, disconnecting him from the alleyway they are fighting in. He centers in on him - at the mouth of the back corridor, crumped in a heap of his _obi_ , face down and unmoving.

 

There’s the bastard wielding the taser, an easy fix with a flash bang as Jesse pounds all six shots into his chest with a fan of the hammer. _Bangbangbangbangbangbang-_ He savours the noise the last thug makes as he hits the ground.

 

Then: Hanzo. Jesse falls to his knees besides him, heart hammering in his ears from the adrenalin rush that works through his muscles, remembering the sound Hanzo made when he was shocked. The laugh afterwards, his blood running cold, deadeye glinting.

 

Jesse’s careful with him as he rolls him over, remembering days of aches and pains after being downed by over and over again. Being tased wasn’t deadly, just painful. The echo of Reyes’ voice in his ear: _should of watched your six, cowboy._

 

Brown eyes open tiredly to find his, they both smile, degrees of relieved. “Sweetheart,” the gunslinger croons, to the face he fell in love with pinched with hints of pain.

 

“Jesse,” is returned just as softly, then Hanzo’s eyes drift closed as he tips his head back to the concrete. Stretching; he is sore, no doubt. “M’okay,” he murmurs.

 

A relieved breath, a reassuring smile down at him. “I believe ya.”

 

He takes another look around the alleyway, to the sudden stillness, the foreboding sense in the dark. He thumbs the comm at his ear, “Four marks down, Hanzo’s injured. I’m headin’ back home.”

 

Winston’s quick to reply, “ _Acknowledged, McCree. Do you need assistance?_ ”

 

Jesse eyes Hanzo, pressed flat to the concrete which his brow twisted, tension in his limbs which sends his arms aching. The need to hold him pulls strong, to massage out the twinge of his seizing muscles.

 

“We’ll be good. Thanks, partner.”

 

“ _Stay safe._ ”

 

“And you, big guy.” The line cuts off, Jesse presses out a sigh as he scoots closer to Hanzo. He sets a gentle hand on his shoulder, Hanzo leans into the contact. “Ready to go?”

 

Hanzo’s half-lidded eyes greet him, sending a pang of protectiveness through Jesse’s chest. “Not sure if I can walk.” An admission, probably pulling on his pride.

 

“Bein’ tased isn’t nice, yeah,” Jesse agrees with a slight huff. “Guessin’ they got you with somethin’ modded, nasty stuff.” The weapon is sitting discarded on the ground, a few leagues from the goon’s outstretched tattooed hand. Jesse frowns at it, then turns back to Hanzo with renewed determination. “I’ve got ya, darlin’, we’ll get you home. You can lean on me.”

 

Hanzo’s limbs are stiff as Jesse hauls him to his feet, their hands interlinked. Upright now, Jesse loops one of the archer’s arms around his shoulder, takes his own hand and places it firmly around Hanzo’s waist.

 

His legs quake, one knee collapses and Jesse rights him, ignoring the quiet groan of pain. Hanzo does, too, jives instead, “You’re finally good for something.”

 

Jesse lets him have it, grinning, as he takes the first step. Hanzo’s feet shuffle after him. “Aw, that stings. Maybe even more than bein’ tased.” Hanzo rolls his eyes, a scoff on his lip as Jesse’s grin widens.

 

The archer’s legs are more cooperative by the time they reach Overwatch’s temporary HQ in Dorado - an old, quaint little inn to Angela was heavily acquainted with. This is only a small op, conjured in response to Mexican authorities’ concern about Los Muertos bomb threats. Tonight, it seems, Jesse and Hanzo finally put them down. There’s concern as Jesse hauls Hanzo through the door, still dangling from the gunslinger’s shoulders.

 

“Had a date with a taser,” he explains to Winston, mainly, but it placates the worry shining in the rest of the guard’s eyes too.  “But won’t even get frisky with me, ‘m deeply hurt.” Hanzo bats him with his free hand, Lena starts laughing to break the veil of concern radiating off all four concerns of the room.

 

Their shared room is small, a tiny bed in the centre of the roof that dwarfs the floor space, and a dresser next to the window hugged by floral green and white curtains. Jesse eases his partner onto the bed, who admits defeat with a groan when he collapses to the mattress.

 

Door shut, curtains pulled, Jesse joins him with another smile tugging at his lips. He leans over gently to kiss him, Hanzo’s lips are hard, yet he has no trouble indulging him. One stiff arm reaches over to pull at the gunslinger’s shoulder, beckon him closer.

 

“You needa rest,” he insists against Hanzo’s lips, still smiling.

 

“I’m fine.” Another insistent kiss, Jesse leans back. Hanzo lets out an annoyed whine, “Jesse-”

 

“I told ya, nothin' about electricity is nice, not when they shove it up your ass. That shit hurts.” He settles down next to his partner, instead, pressing them shoulder to shoulder, and props his head up on one hand to peer at him. “How you feelin’, really? Sore?”

 

A sigh, then a dejected nod. “Yes. And tired.”

 

“Then you rest, darlin’.” Jesse’s spare hand comes to smooth down Hanzo’s closest arm, his bare shoulder in his _obi_. Hanzo captures his hand at the contact, intertwines their fingers. “And I’ll give ya a nice massage in the mornin’, loosen up all those muscles.”

 

“We are not even changed.”

 

“I’m pretty comfortable.” He squeezes Hanzo’s hand, who is smirking. “Aw, maybe yer a _little_ right. M’spurs tend to make a noise when I roll over in my sleep.”

 

They change for bed, Hanzo’s face pinches when he moves too quickly, Jesse steadies him and coaxes tense muscles into working with old, trained hands. Settling back down, Hanzo rests his head against Jesse’s bare chest, the gunslinger’s arms around his stiff shoulders.

 

The need to hold him, the surge of protectiveness - all obsolete as he looks down at his partner, enveloped in his arms, tired yet alive, against what those awful thoughts told him in the alleyway when he felt him go down. Jesse pushes them down, grips his partner tight, relaxes into the pillows.

 

Hanzo shifts closer, Jesse feels the soft silk of his black hair smooth over his chest. “Tell me what you are thinking,” he says, in the dark, voice dragging with the suggestion of sleep.

 

“M’thinkin’,” hums Jesse, “how glad I am yer okay.”

 

His partner responds with a kiss, a meeting of lips before they give in to the tiredness pulling at both of them, and sleep.

  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3 you can come visit me on [tumblr](http://talizorahs.tumblr.com)!


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